Title: Not What I ExpectedAuthor: AinzfernSeries: TOSCode: S/Mc Rating: PG-13 Parts: 1 (1/1)Disclaimer: Paramount owns STAR TREK ... etc and so on and so forth! My only pay here is personal joySummary: A first time PWP concerning shore leave on a certain ball o mud somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant. I prequel (of sorts) to "The Day You Went Away"Archiving: Cool- if you want to- please let me know.Feedback: Yes please! All comments are welcomeAuthor's Note: Once again, HUGE thanks to Janet for her BETA. As always, this one's for you, my friend!

Not What I Expected.

Two tiny figures toiled in the middle distance, slowly crossing over a vast, green boggy countryside that was eerily reminiscent of the English moors.

//And about as damn cold, too,// Leonard McCoy, CMO of the Federation flagship, personal friend of the great James T Kirk, highly educated southern gent and currently one *very* pissed off camper, groused silently to himself as he followed along behind the tall and slender figure in front of him. He shifted the heavy pack on his shoulders and scowled again at his apparently oblivious companion.

He knew it was totally unreasonable of him, but for some reason, he wanted to blame Spock for this mess. Even though this had all been Jim's suggestion. Even though it was the aforesaid Jim who arranged to have shore leave partners drawn in random lots. Even though it was Jim, damn him, who had forced the idea of camping onto McCoy in the first place.

"I mean it, Bones. I want you two to go camping together." He had been seated in McCoy's office in sickbay, one arm casually hooked over the back of his chair as he faced his fuming CMO with amused hazel eyes. "It's a proven form of male bonding. It *might* just help the two of you to reach some common ground."

McCoy had tried reasoning. "It's a little difficult to enjoy common ground with someone you have nothing in common with."

Kirk's eyes had sparkled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that you have *nothing* in common with Spock. You are shipmates after all. You both work for Starfleet. You both annoy the hell out of me with your constant sniping at one another."

As reasoning had apparently failed, McCoy went for pleading. "Don't do this to me Jim. I can try to get along better with the man, I really can. I'll be good. I'll bite my tongue." He had turned the full sincere blue-eyed treatment on his friend. "C'mon, Jim. Three days *alone* in the wilderness with Mister tall dark and irritating? I'll go insane."

Unmoved, Kirk had simply smiled at him. "You're going, Bones. You drew Spock fair and square. There's no five star hotel on this M class, I'm afraid. *All* of us will be roughing it."

Both men had stopped for a moment to envision the blond and buxom beauty from the science department. For a brief moment, McCoy considered the structural dynamics involved in that much under wire.

Blinking, he had returned to the present and tried one last tact. Stubbornness. He had always had very good luck with stubbornness. He was renowned for it.

"I ain't going." He crossed his arms and glared at the Captain.

Kirk smiled beatifically at him. "You know, I could *soooo* easily make this an order."

//Son of a Bitch...//

And that had ended *that* conversation.

Of course, the last thing McCoy had wanted to do was actually tell Kirk the truth, the *real* reason why he didn't want to be stuck down here on this uninhabited planet with the Vulcan for three day and nights. Although he was sure it would've gotten him out of the camping trip, he *wasn't* sure that he could have lived with the speculation that would have followed his admission

He had tried to deny it. He had tried to talk himself out of it. It wasn't something that he had been prepared for. He had no pre-conceived ideas about sexual preference. Love was love, it didn't matter what shape or sex your partner was, just so long as there was affection. But he had always been a ladies man, and how. With their soft breasts and their rounded ankles and their wonderful smell of soap and perfume... he had *never* expected that Spock...

He had never wanted a man before in his life. But he wanted this one, no two ways about it. It was *something* about him. His elegance, his intelligence maybe, the fact that he was as beautiful and aloof as a marble statue and about as untouchable.

He didn't even *try* to tell himself that his feelings would be reciprocated. He knew it was hopeless. So he fought with himself. He told himself that he didn't want Spock, that he didn't even *like* him. And out of sheer cussedness, he did the same thing to Spock.

So now, trudging alone behind the man, Leonard McCoy slid further into his funk. He glared daggers at the strong back in front of him. Spock seemed to have no trouble at all with either the terrain or the heavy pack he was carrying. Even the cold didn't seem to bother him. He was as always, single minded and driven to completing his task, which was in this case, to finder higher or least *dryer* ground.

//Damn it! Aren't Vulcan's supposed to shut down in the cold? Shouldn't *he* be the one with chilblains and frozen hands? Damn you Jim, you Son of a Bitch! Damn you and your shore leave lottery. Damn this whole miserable stinkin' freezing place and DAMMIT what the HELL HAVE I JUST STEPPED IN??//

"Doctor?" Hearing McCoy's little cry of disgust, Spock turned and spoke to him for the first time since they had set off across the moor. "Are you in some difficulty?"

McCoy glared up at him, feathers and dignity in complete tatters. "Yeah. You could say that, Spock."

An elegant eyebrow quirked briefly. "You appear to be standing up to your waist in mud, Doctor."

"Y'know that's what I like about Vulcan's. Their God Damned powers of observation!"

Spock removed his pack and carefully approached the fuming Human, taking care to keep to the edge of the large puddle. "This mud-bog is quite visible, Doctor. I easily avoided it. I can only deduce from the obvious evidence, that you were not paying attention to where you were going."

McCoy made an obscene gesture. "Deduce *this*, Spock!"

"That remark makes no sense whatsoever." Spock said blandly.

"Yeah, well. Neither do I, a lot of the time. You gunna help me out of here or not?"

With a strange expression on his face, Spock reached out and grabbed the front of McCoy's tunic, easily pulling him from the mud-bog with a sound like water draining out of a half clogged kitchen sink. He set McCoy on his feet and looked at him critically. "You must get into dry clothes soon, Doctor, or you may succumb to hypothermia."

McCoy's teeth were already chattering. "I noticed that. Well, as you seem to have all the answers today, what's our best course of action?"

"The ground ahead of us is reasonably firm. I believe we should erect our tent in this location rather than attempting to leave the moors. You need to get dry and then ingest a hot meal." Even as he spoke Spock picked up his heavy pack and slipped it back on.

"I'd agree with you there. It's probably about time we called a rest break anyway," McCoy said. "We've been tromping for a fair while."

"Indeed." Spock turned to face him and once more, McCoy saw that strange little expression flit over his comely features again. "Following that, Leonard," Spock said slowly, his obsidian eyes peculiarly intent. "I believe that we should copulate."

McCoy blinked. The world tilted suddenly.

//.........!!//

Spock looked down at him and McCoy suddenly realized what that odd expression was. The Vulcan was smiling. Only just, but it was there.

"Doctor, you seem to have fallen into the mud-bog again."

//.........!!//

*******

In a little tent, on a frozen misty moor, replete and warm in the circle of his lover's arms, Leonard McCoy stared all bemused at the low canvas ceiling and contemplated the wondrous turn his life had just taken.

"You knew all along?" he asked again.

"Yes, Leonard. I felt your attraction to me within a few hours of us meeting." Spock let his warm hand trail down McCoy's side. "I also sensed the conflict within you in regards to that very issue."

"You are that attuned to people?"

"No. I am attuned to the one that I am attracted to."

McCoy sighed and shook his head in amazement. "Well, I'll be damned," he breathed.

Spock leaned over him and cupped his face, his delicate fingers running over the plains of his cheeks, touching his brow, smoothing over his lips and neck.

The Human sighed and smiled, enjoying the touch, the higher body temperature of his chosen one. He wondered for a moment how folks could make the mistake of thinking that Vulcans were almost sexless creatures. What he and Spock had just shared had been... exquisite, to say the least.

He had not really known how to proceed. Oh, as a doctor he knew the mechanics and the theory involved. But with no practical experience to speak of, he had been just as happy to let Spock lead the way.

And what a teacher he had been! Their bodies had fitted together incredibly well, and if McCoy had thought that women smelled good, he had been totally unprepared for the heady, musky scent of a fully aroused Vulcan. He laughed softly.

Spock pulled back and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "May I ask what is so amusing?"

McCoy grinned. "I was just thinkin' how I haven't come that many times in a row since I was a teenager."

Spock gave him that beautiful half smile again. "A most gratifying compliment, Leonard." He lay back and pulled McCoy into his arms, arranging him comfortably over his sleekly muscled chest. "With that thought in mind, I would suggest that we get some sleep."

"Oh?" McCoy found that he was slightly disappointed.

"Yes. Remember Leonard, we still have two more days in which to occupy ourselves."

McCoy's disappointment drained away instantly. //Oh, Lordy!//

Spock reached out and extinguished the small camping lantern. For a long moment, they simply lay in the dark and held each other tightly, listing to the wind outside and the closer more intimate sound of each other's heartbeats.

"Spock?" McCoy said finally, his voice on the edge of sleep.

"Yes, Leonard?"

"I'm glad you didn't give up on me." He gave a soft chuckle. "This camping trip certainly wasn't what I expected."

Spock lay there quietly, listing to the even breathing of his lover as the Human drifted away into slumber. In the warm and friendly darkness, he gathered him close and nestled his face into his soft hair.

He gave a deep sigh of contentment and profound relief. "It was not what I expected, either," he whispered softly.